In The Land of The Wild and The Wicked
by KelBub
Summary: The man that captured Dean Winchester the Great Outlaw didn’t need a badge; he only needed a gun, five shots and a dead horse. The story of the Winchesters set in the Wild West. Btw, Western haters, you should check this out! wink wink
1. Chapter 1

IN THE LAND OF THE WILD AND THE WICKED

His boots made little sound as he moved across the red dirt, the sun baking the land and burning into his back. One foot in front of the other in small, dragging steps as his eyes covered the ground. There weren't really any tracks to follow - except for the occasional snake track; a furrow in the ground in a wavy or straight line, depending on the species and its moving pattern - but he was a good tracker and he wanted so badly for them to be there. He needed confirmation and he needed to be heading in the right direction because, as proven earlier, he didn't afford any detours. The air was still, no breeze, which was a perfect condition for tracking but it didn't help when there were no tracks to follow. Well, at least not from the one he needed to be tracking. It was hot also. Way too hot. And all his water was gone, the leather pouch hanging from his horse's saddle, dry and empty. He needed water so desperately but tried not to think about it too much. He'd gone without water before, and for longer periods of time. But he couldn't help feeling a little sorry for himself AND his horse as the animal neighed weakly, its throat surely as dry as his. They'd been through a lot together - that horse and him – and he loved the son of a bitch. They'd crossed the lands of the desert a hundred times together; they had travelled in rain and draught; through freezing cold nights and scorching hot days.

He'd been in pursuit for over a week now on the back of his trusty mustang, following in the path of chaos and destruction, and he was tired. The last couple of days had been hard. The trail got colder and colder the further out into the desert he came and now standing in the middle of nowhere in scorching heat the trail was colder than ever.

He took his eyes off the ground for a second to squint at the sun.

"C'mon boy," he said softly to the horse and pulled the rein slightly as he urged the horse forward. "We need to get out from under the sun."

There really was nowhere for them to go though. There were a couple of dried out bushes about four or five foot tall nearby but with the sun high in the sky they couldn't offer any shade whatsoever. He sighed. _Shitty luck_ - it was enough to give a guy a headache.

"Don't move!"

One could move almost soundlessly across the red dirt and so when the order was suddenly barked from behind him, he was actually caught quite off guard. He spun around to find a gun trained on him. _Damn shitty luck!_

"Remove your gun from your holster," the other man ordered and cocked his gun.

He did.

Then…"Now drop it! And don't try anything stupid, Winchester."

The other man was a complete stranger to him. He was good with faces and he was pretty sure they had never met before. But the other guy knew his name and it could only mean one thing. Maybe it was the heat or the fact that he'd been without water and sleep for so long, but as he dropped his gun to the ground he could've sworn the other man was smiling.

- o -

She was seventeen when her mom died and life as she knew it was over. Her father was the town sheriff and constantly put in the line of danger and she'd grown up used to the fact that they could lose him. While her dad spent most of his waking hours in town working, she and her mom had lead a quiet life at the family house, far away from anything that could pose a threat to them. Peace and safety became her way of life and so when suddenly her mom fell ill with an unknown ailment and died she was nowhere near prepared. And after her mom's death everything changed.

Her father was a man of the law and a dedicated one at that but he was also a family man who loved his daughter. When his wife died it became clear to him that in order to keep his daughter alive and safe he would have to keep her close. This meant moving into town, close to the sheriff's office, so he could keep an eye on her. And whenever he had to leave town for work, she would have to go with him.

This was the reason she was now in the middle of the desert in the company of several law men. This was also the reason why she witnessed the capture of one of the most dangerous outlaws of the west.

Riddick, their tracker, returned to their camp with this outlaw, this prisoner, at gunpoint.

"Somebody get a rope and help me tie him up," Riddick said, his eyes trained on his captive the entire time he spoke. He seemed nervous and kind of skittish and the way he shifted his weight between his legs indicated the level of threat posed on them even before her father's deputy cried "You caught a Winchester!".

She noticed then the similarities between the guy before her and the Winchester whose face had been illustrated on every Most Wanted poster in the state. Dean Winchester was wanted dead or alive for robbery and murder and several other offences and the reward for his capture was 3000 dollars. 'The Winchester Gang' was infamous and they'd just caught one of them.

"Get a rope from my saddle bag, Annie," her father instructed, "and then throw it to me."

She did as she was told and then watched in silence as her father and Riddick tied Dean Winchester's arms behind his back. He didn't fight them, didn't even make a sound and it all seemed so easy. Afterward he was pushed to the ground, three guns trained on him, while Riddick bragged about his easy capture and the 3000 that would soon be theirs.

- o -

There was nothing about this hunt that had been easy and Dean cursed inwardly as soon as he realized his mistake. He'd been too busy tracking to cover his own tracks. With his mind occupied on the impending apocalypse, he'd forgotten he was wanted by the law for a second and let his guard down. It was unprofessional and stupid and his dad would've scolded him for it. It didn't really matter what people thought or what happened to him anymore but now was not the time for this. He couldn't afford any detours. Not now.

The guy that pointed the gun at him didn't wear a badge and he didn't have to. He advanced on Dean, screaming at him to keep his hands where he could see them, and all Dean could think about was how that fool trampled all over the ground, diminishing every trace of the thing Dean was pursuing. He was about to tell the man that, after he'd decked him but stopped dead in his tracks when the guy pointed the gun at his horse and pulled the trigger.

"Don't you fucking move!" the man yelled and, shocked, Dean took a step back, hands raised in the air. His horse collapsed on the ground with a god awful sound, bleeding from a hole in the neck and Dean closed his eyes, willing himself to slow down.

"Okay! Okay," he said softly, because his goddamn horse was still alive and he loved the son of a bitch too much to lose him. "Listen…" he said, trying to explain, but he was cut off by a round of gunshots.

The man that captured Dean Winchester the Great Outlaw didn't need a badge; he only needed a gun, five shots and a dead horse.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, so I need to make some things clear

Okay, so I need to make some things clear. Sam will be in this story, I promise! He plays a really big part and will show up in the story soon. And Annie, the girl, is not a love interest! I'm not a fan of those kinds of stories so she's definitely not that kind of character. She's in the story for a completely different purpose, trust me. As for everything else…you will get answers as the story moves along.

- Kel

**Chapter Two**

"I say we kill him," Riddick said casually, as if they were talking about the weather and not about killing someone. "Dead or alive - the reward's the same."

"But we can't just take a man's life like that," Ben Johnson, one of her father's deputies, said, giving Riddick a disgusted look. "That would be murder."

"So?" Riddick shot back, "He's killed more people than any other criminal out there. He's owned up to it, believe me!"

It was still hard for her to understand that kind of logic. During the two years that had passed since her mother's death she'd witnessed at least sixty hangings, of which twelve had been carried out by angry mobs, not the law. Of these twelve, five had been hanged accused of horse stealing and seven had been proven innocent of their crimes later on. She'd seen murder in the eyes of people that called themselves victims. She'd seen pleasure in the faces of those witnessing hangings, those that cheered and clapped when they heard the snap of someone's neck breaking. She'd seen more than she ever thought she would and way more than she wanted. Why was killing another man okay just because he was a criminal?

Frank Jones, her father's second deputy, disapproved of the idea as well. "It's not our place to judge him even if he is a lying creep and a scumbag."

"Hey!" Dean Winchester scoffed, just a little offended.

"Shut up." Ben slapped Dean in the back of the head as Frank continued.

"A judge should condemn him, not us."

She liked Frank. He could see the difference between right and wrong even after fifteen years as a law man. If she thought she'd seen a lot, he'd seen…everything. To her it felt comforting to know that at least some people didn't let their personal feelings get in the way of their work.

Riddick's face flushed and trembling with anger he pointed to the man at their feet. "You don't know," he hissed at the others, "how many graves his family has desecrated, how many people are dead because of him. But I know…I know all too well."

Dean Winchester didn't look at them. His head was bowed slightly, creases of concentration furrowing his brow.

Her father didn't even dignify Riddick with a look. She knew he'd already made up his mind. He was the sheriff – and his opinion had more value. He grabbed Dean Winchester by the arm and pulled him to standing. His prisoner gritted his teeth.

"Nobody's going to kill anyone while I'm in charge," her father declared, his hand wrapped around Winchester's upper arm. "We're here to capture the Winchester Gang, meaning all of them, and this boy here can be useful to us when we track down the others. Now let's move out while we still have a couple of hours of daylight."

He turned his back to the other men, not interested in hearing their opinion and pushed Dean Winchester towards his horse, a Pinto named Buster.

- o -

"You're kidding, right?" Dean asked once he realized the sheriff wanted him to mount the horse. Carefully, he tested the rope around his wrists and groaned internally when they didn't offer any kind of leeway. _Yeah, mounting a horse with his goddamn hands tied behind his back…piece of cake._

The sheriff didn't say anything, just whirled Dean around to the sound of guns cocking and started picking at the rope. Dean groaned when his arms finally fell free and blood rushed to his hands and fingers. The relief was brief though. The sheriff offered him no more than a couple of seconds to stretch his aching shoulders before he grabbed his wrists and retied them with an expert's ease. This time in front of him.

"Get on the horse," he ordered.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the three other men. They were all watching, their guns pointed at him just waiting for him to make a wrong move. Well, he wasn't gonna hand it to them that easy. The sheriff was holding the reins as Dean put his foot in the left stirrup and his hands on the seat and hoisted himself up. It was awkward and uncomfortable but he'd done it many times before and didn't actually need the small push of help he received from the sheriff. Once he was in the saddle the sheriff reached up, another rope in his hand, and tied Dean's hands to the saddle horn. The man was nothing if not cautious. When his wrists were secured to the horn the sheriff turned to Riddick.

"Where's his horse?"

There wasn't a hint of regret in Riddick's voice when he replied, "I killed it."

"You did what?!" the sheriff boomed, outraged. He looked ready to punch the guy. Dean knew the feeling all too well. "You stupid son of a bitch! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

Riddick shrugged. Apparently not.

"Maybe you didn't think that far but we're six people and we only have five horses. How did you plan on transporting the prisoner?"

Riddick shot Dean a deadly look before glaring at the sheriff.

"I didn't," he growled.

This was answer enough. Riddick hadn't planned on keeping Dean alive.

The sheriff sighed and Dean knew why. That Riddick guy's trigger happy finger had just put them in a quite dire situation. They were in the middle of the desert with limited supplies and with one horse short. They would only be able to ride short distances because now one of the horses would have to carry two people and it would need rest every couple of hours. The sheriff had realized the same thing.

"Riddick, you're walking," the sheriff said gruffly, and Dean couldn't help but smirk.

- o -

They hadn't come far when Dean decided it was time to shake off his captors.

He always kept a small blade in his boot, close to the heel, in case he'd lose his gun and need a weapon, or in case he'd need to cut off a rope…let's say, around his wrists. So while the other men had discussed what to do with him, he'd reached into his boot and pulled out this blade. It hadn't been easy but he'd managed to tuck the blade under the fabric of his sleeve without anyone noticing – not even the creepy girl, whose eyes had been on him the entire time.

He'd worked on the rope around his wrists for almost thirty minutes when finally he felt it give under the sharp edge of the blade, everything just took longer when one was working with ones hands tied.

He waited until they reached a steep hill and his horse was alongside the sheriff's before he made his move. He didn't hold back the least when he suddenly kicked the sheriff in the midsection, causing the man to fall off his horse. He heard a soft _'oomph'_ and didn't even wait for the thud of the man hitting ground before he drove his heels into the animal underneath him and forced it into a gallop. He heard several shots behind him and ducked as he steered his horse over the edge of the hill. It was a lot steeper than he'd thought and the hillside he was heading down was covered in gravel like dirt and thorny bushes. If the horse lost its footing here he was gonna break his neck. Had he been on the back of his mustang, instead of the Pinto he was currently straddling, he wouldn't have doubted he'd make it to the bottom in one piece. But he didn't know this horse and wasn't sure if it could handle such a steep descent. Not going down that hill wasn't an option though, so he went.

The Pinto staggered its way down the hill, almost losing its footing on several occasions, and Dean held his breath as bullets whistled past him and screaming erupted overhead. He knew the others wouldn't be stupid enough to follow him, not even the guy that had shot his horse. Once he made it to the bottom, he'd be home free.

- o -

She didn't even hesitate when she steered her horse over the edge of the hill, following her dad's Pinto and the man on it as they careened downhill. It would be an overstatement to say she knew what she was doing because she had no idea. She wasn't even sure why she was following them…_Maybe it was the thrill of the unknown?_

Dean Winchester was clearly a skilled rider and even though his horse staggered a bit they soon made it to the bottom without him falling off and breaking every bone in his body. He was gone in a cloud of dust before she reached the bottom of the hill. And how she made it down alive she would never be able to say.

She heard none of her father's screams and none of the other men's warnings as she took off after Dean Winchester in a cloud of dust.

- o -

It wasn't she who found Dean Winchester, it was he who found her.

Winchester and Buster were gone when she made it to the bottom of the hill but she was still close enough to get a glimpse of them far off in the horizon, of the dust whipped off the ground by the horse's hooves. She didn't know her way around the area but neither did he and after a while when the cloud of dust up ahead took a sharp turn to the right, moving towards a lone mountain, she knew it was where he was headed.

Once she reached the mountain there was no sign of him or the horse. No hoof prints, no cloud of dust, nothing at all and she knew she'd lost him. Then she realized she had no idea where she was, how long she'd been riding or which way she'd come. Except for the mountain there was nothing but red dirt and brush around her, everything looked exactly the same. The only thing she knew for sure was that she'd just made a sharp turn to the right. Panic came not long after that and she bit her lip to keep from crying. This was her own fault, she'd put herself in this position.

"Dad!" she screamed, hoping that maybe she was close enough for him to hear her. "Frank! Ben!" But nobody answered.

She dismounted on shaky legs and looked around, trying to get her bearings. It soon became clear to her that she would have to climb the mountain. Maybe if she was higher up she would be able to see her father and the others somewhere in the distance.

The climb was tougher than she'd thought. It took longer and took more out of her than she'd ever imagined it would. She was tired and her body ached and the heat was starting to make her delirious. She was reaching for a root in front of her when suddenly her vision shifted. Her fingers closed around air instead of root and with nothing to hold her steady, she lost her footing and fell backwards with a scream.

It hurt like hell when she tumbled down the mountainside and on the way down she hit her head enough times to see stars. Semi-conscious but still screaming she finally managed to grab a hold of something and it wasn't until her body slammed to a sudden stop that she realized she was hanging off a cliff.

"Help!"

She started sobbing, trying desperately to hold on. Blood ran down her face from several cuts and scrapes and her arm ached.

"Please, help me," she cried again, knowing somewhere deep down that nobody would.

She stopped crying when she felt her fingers slip a little from the branch that had saved her from falling to her death. "Oh, God." Her hand was shaking badly from the strain of carrying all of her weight and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. The realization that she would lose her grip and die hit her like a brick wall.

Then.

"Take my hand."

Her vision was blurry and she could hardly see anything but she had no doubt that was the voice of Dean Winchester. Then she felt his hand enclose hers and the branch she was gripping with all of her might.

"I can't," she sobbed. "I can't."

"Yes, you can!" his voice came from above her. "I've got you, okay? Now, give me your other hand."

Tears of pain and fear slipped down her cheeks as she tried to pull herself up enough to reach his hand. She was weak and her body was tired and the first time she tried she only managed to brush her fingertips against his.

"Try again," he urged her, "you can do it."

And this time she did it. She felt a rush of relief as his hand closed around hers and he started pulling her up. At first it was he who did all the work, then she finally found foothold and could help pulling herself up the rest of the way.

She'd barely made it to safety when he exploded at her. "You stupid… You shouldn't have followed me here! It's too dangerous. It's too dangerous to be around me, ya hear?!"

And she heard him, loud and clear, and she sobbed between gasps as if she knew what was coming next.

"I'm gonna have to leave you here," he went on. "You can't come with me."

She cried even harder. She closed her eyes as she heard the crunch of his boots moving away from her. He couldn't just leave her here. She was lost.

"Stop right there!"

It was her father's voice and she'd never been so happy to hear it. She opened her eyes to see her father, Riddick and Frank moving slowly towards Dean Winchester who stood only an arm length away from her. He'd just saved her life and now he would pay the price for it.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

When they finally stopped to make camp he was so tired he thought he might topple over. The sun was just about to set but the heat was still unbearable. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes. He was sticky from sweating so much and with every movement the friction of the rope around his wrists would burn his skin. Panting, he looked on as the sheriff got off his horse, grabbed a leather bag off the saddle and walked up to him.

"You thirsty?" the man asked.

Dean nodded.

The sheriff held up the leather bag of water, offering it to him. Dean opened his mouth obediently and swallowed down, too damn thirsty and too damn tired to care that the sheriff wouldn't even let him hold the water bag himself.

"What you giving him water for?" Riddick drawled as he jumped off his horse. "The bastard kicked you in the gut and tried to run away."

The sheriff ignored him at first, letting Dean have a few more swallows before he backed away and turned to Riddick. "That _bastard_ saved my daughter's life, Riddick," he said. "And we're not letting a man die of thirst while we still have water."

Riddick growled and it wasn't the first time Dean wondered why the man hated him so much.

The sheriff undid the rope around the saddle horn and pulled in it to get Dean's attention.

"C'mon."

Dean followed where the man pushed and heaved a sigh when he realized their destination, a big, old, and very dead tree. The older man grabbed him by the arm as soon as they reached the tree as if he knew Dean would resist being tied down.

"Sheriff…" Dean said roughly and winced a little at the burn in his throat, "listen to me… You and your people are in danger, alright?"

The sheriff fixed him with a stern look and motioned for him to sit.

"You threatening me, son?"

Dean gave a small smile, albeit a sad one. "No." He paused. "I know it sounds crazy, but I'm trying to save you."

The sheriff huffed and pushed him to the ground. "Back against the tree."

Dean obeyed, leaning his back against the tree trunk.

"Save us from what?" the older man asked. He didn't sound convinced.

He started wrapping the rope around Dean's chest then, tying him to the tree and his arms to his sides, and Dean grimaced when a knot in the tree trunk buried into his back. His wrists were still tied together in front of him and now with his upper body fixed against the tree, he could hardly move. The position was uncomfortable as hell.

"I wish I could tell you but I can't. You're just gonna have to trust me on this."

The other man snorted at that. "Yeah, trust a criminal, I don't think so."

"I'm not who they say I am," Dean said firmly, "I think you know that."

The sheriff shrugged and ignored Dean as he tested the ropes and made sure they were wound tight. "Yeah, well, you can plead your case to a jury."

- o -

Dean watched from his place by the tree as the others grilled something over the campfire and passed it back and forth to each other. Whatever they were eating, they weren't planning on sharing it with him. His stomach growled and he forced himself to look away, no point in torturing himself. His gaze fell on the horizon and the yellow, red and orange tones of sundown. It was beautiful and surely most men would think so, but as the sky turned into a bright yellow glow and the wind picked up, Dean shuddered.

- o -

He couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to for a while now. All his senses were on high alert; eyes seeking out the slightest of movements in the darkness, ears listening for the smallest of sounds. But except for the wind, everything was still and quiet - forebodingly so - until he heard the soft footsteps of someone moving towards him.

Dean's heart picked up and he closed his eyes and listened harder. The same man that had taught him how to track had also taught him the importance of learning people's moving patterns. Just like with animals. By closing his eyes he could enhance his hearing and analyze sounds in a way he couldn't otherwise. His old man used to call it 'blocking one sense in favor of another'. His ears were trained at this and he knew who the man was before he reached him. Riddick - the man whose spurs clicked in a very specific way when he walked.

Dean opened his eyes when he felt the barrel of a gun work into his side. It didn't scare him though. Riddick's breath was hot on his skin as he hissed into Dean's ear.

"Remember Amanda Solomon?"

Dean tilted his head towards the other man.

"Who?"

The barrel was pressed into his side harder. "You know who," Riddick said, his voice forced into a whisper, "White Rock. Two years ago. You and your brother were there."

Dean was better with faces than with names and he was sure he had met more than one Amanda over the past few years. But he'd only been to White Rock once and he would never forget what had happened there, or to whom.

- o -

_Their dad had been missing for a while when they rode into the town of White Rock. It was a small town, far away from the rest of the civilization, and situated on land that nobody had claimed. And because the town was so isolated and its location so inhabitable no other town wanted to do business with it. White Rock was not a big market for anything and therefore no criminal in his right mind would go there. To Sam and Dean it was like a safe haven._

"_C'mon Sammy," Dean said, as he helped Sam off his horse, a palomino named Odessa._

_His little brother groaned in response, his eyes closed and his face frozen in a grimace of pain. They had been on horseback for hours and Sam was fading fast._

_Knowing they didn't have much time, Dean gave his brother a quick once over. Sam's tall lanky frame was shivering, his brother was no doubt going into shock, and there was a huge stain of blood on his shirt, right above his belt. Dean swallowed down the panic growing inside of him and shrugged out of his jacket. He wasn't sure Sam was even aware as he helped him put it on and button it. He glanced at the hand painted sign over the entrance: HOTEL, and wrapped his arm around Sam's waist. _

"_Try to look alive in there, okay?" he said half jokingly as he dragged his brother inside._

_Getting them rooms wasn't hard and according to the owner of the hotel they were the only visitors in town. The man talked a lot and asked even more questions and he stared at them in a way that made Dean's skin crawl and he could not get away from there fast enough. _

_Their rooms were small but connected and Dean dropped Sam onto one of the beds and started rummaging for towels, cloths, anything that could staunch the bleeding. He was glad he had gotten them two rooms because there wasn't enough water in Sam's room to clean the wounds and wash off all the blood. He grabbed the bowl of water from atop the drawer in the other room and hurried over to his brother. Sam was out cold and didn't even flinch when Dean went to work, cleaning and suturing the wounds. _

- o -

_Sam woke up in a dark room and found he was alone. He pushed off the bed and gasped at the sudden pain that shot through his midsection. Right... The bullet wound. Moving more carefully, he got up and peered around. He didn't recognize the room nor did he remember how he'd gotten there. And his brother was nowhere to be seen. His hand went to his holster and he breathed a sigh of relief when his hand closed around his revolver. At least he was armed._

_He shuffled across the floor towards the open window and peered out. It was late evening and the street outside was empty save for two teenagers. Sam heard their voices before he leaned out and spotted them. The boy and the girl were about his age. The girl was blonde and wore a red, puffy dress. There were two red feathers in her long, curly hair and even from his spot one storey up Sam could see the familiar curves of red pouty lips. She reminded him of someone and it hurt just to think about it. Sam backed away from the window._

_Outside, the other guy said; "C'mon, Mandy, don't be silly." And the girl laughed in response. _

_Sam closed the window quietly. There was a standing mirror beside the window and Sam stopped briefly in front of it. His brother had changed his bloodied shirt while he was unconscious and his jacket, most likely with a nice bullet hole in it, was gone. Sam checked his hands for blood and studied his face in the mirror. Except for the slight nausea, he felt okay and there were no telltale signs in his appearance of what had occurred a couple of hours earlier. _

_He moved out of the room slowly and down the wooden stairs but stopped at the bottom when he realized he was being watched. To his right a man with black hair smiled at him from across a desk._

"_Looking for your travelling companion, sir?" the man asked._

_Sam stared at the man for a moment before he nodded. "Uh, yeah, do you know where he is?"_

_The man motioned to the door, eyes still fixed on Sam. "With the haste he rushed out of here, I'd say he's at the saloon with the others. They have a special show there tonight." _

- o -

"_Hey, Sammy! How ya feelin'?" his brother called as soon as he spotted Sam. _

_Dean was sitting at a table by the bar, surrounded by pretty saloon type women - all with feathers in their hair that matched their dresses, and his brother seemed happier than ever. Sam elbowed his way towards his brother's table and smiled feebly to the girl sitting in Dean's lap._

"_Excuse me…" Then he turned to the others, "Ladies, could we have a moment please?"_

"_Sure thing, handsome," one of the girls said as her hand reached out and travelled down his back slowly. _

"_Thank you-u," Sam said, his voice hitching slightly as the girl's hand came to rest on his butt and squeezed. _

"_Daisy, tired of me already?" Dean joked._

_The girl laughed softly. "Sorry, Dean, but you didn't tell us your friend was this hot."_

_Her hand lingered on Sam and he blushed and moved away. Dean gave him a shit-eating grin, the one where Sam just knew what would come next, and turned to Daisy. _

"_Sweetie, I didn't think it would matter…" he said gravely, his face all serious. "The guy's a eunuch."_

"_What?"_

"_Dean!"_

- o -

"_A eunuch, Dean? Really?" Sam said in a high-pitched voice, as he pushed his brother through the swing doors. He was beside himself with annoyance. _

_Dean smirked. "Well, what can I say Sammy? Sometimes you just don't have the balls to do stuff." He chuckled at his choice of words and Sam huffed. His brother was such a pain in the ass sometimes._

_Sam sighed. "Whatever." _

_He pulled his brother to the side and into the alley between the saloon and the next house and looked around to make sure they were alone._

"_What are we even doing here, Dean? We should be out looking for dad."_

"_Dad doesn't want to be found Sam," Dean said, serious all of a sudden. "And you were hurt. You wouldn't have survived another hour out there. Besides, this town isn't so bad and you need a break." _

_Sam felt anger bubble up. It was his brother who'd brought him back into all this, and now he wanted him to take a break?! No way!_

"_What I need is to find dad and then find Jessica's killer," he said heatedly. "You brought me into this again and now I'm gonna finish it."_

"_Sam, c'mon..."_

"_No!" Sam wasn't having it. "I'm leaving in the morning…with or without you."_

_Filled with rage and grief Sam stalked off. It wasn't his brother he was angry with, not really. But he was hurting so much he couldn't take it anymore and he had to take out his frustration on someone. His brother was there. It was convenient. And he knew he would forgive him._

- o -

_Dean grabbed the bottle from the bar desk and made his way towards an empty table in the back. The show was about to start. He slumped down in a chair just before the lights went out and smoke curled out from under the curtains on the stage. People cheered and some men whistled in appreciation. The women hadn't even shown themselves yet and already people were cheering and clapping. Suddenly a happy tune started playing from a piano tucked far into the corner of the stage and everyone went silent. Dean held his breath. Then the singing started and it was the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard. He didn't know the song, didn't recognize the words, but who cared…words didn't matter with a voice like that. Other female voices joined in and Dean leaned forward in his chair, completely enthralled. The other men in the room did the same. Then the curtains parted and seven women stood before them. Seven women, in seven different dresses, in seven different colours with seven kinds of feathers in their hair. Dean put the liquor bottle to his lips and swallowed greedily. He wanted all of these women and he wanted them now. He could see himself with these ladies in a foursome squared - was that even an expression? – in his hotel room. A soft bed, their hot skin against his, deep breathing, panting, soft curves and tingling sensations. He shook himself mentally and drank more, swallowing down quickly. He couldn't get enough of his drink, it tasted so good and he was so thirsty. He poured more into his mouth than he could swallow and choked and coughed in short bursts while the show continued onstage. He wasn't the only one. The room was suddenly hot as fire and everyone else was drinking and choking like him. Still it felt so good and he couldn't stop himself from taking another swallow. _

_When the show ended he was gasping, his bottle empty in his hands. Then the ladies made their way across the room towards him and he smiled between deep, agonizing breaths. Feathery stoles were wrapped around him, hands and fingers running down his arms and body like soft kisses against his skin. They were Dixie, Daisy and Dolly and they were there to please him. He felt drunk but happy, hypnotized almost, by these ladies and he let them touch him and kiss him as much as they wanted. _

_When the lights came back on it was as if he woke up from a dream. The girls were still there, still as beautiful and inviting but he didn't feel drunk or hypnotized anymore. The party continued and soon Dixie was in his lap writhing and panting and making Dean crazy with need. That was when Sammy entered and Dean was pulled back to reality…_

"_Hey, Sammy! How ya feelin'?"_

- o -

_Sam awoke the next morning to a scream outside his window. It was early morning and the sun had just begun it's ascend in the sky. Sam pulled on his pants on his way over to the window and peered out. Outside on the street was a scene he would never forget. _

_A woman was shrieking, hands fumbling at a man who was bent over a water barrel, his upper body completely submerged by water. The man didn't move, his legs were hanging lifeless against the outside of the barrel and Sam knew the man was dead. _

**To Be Continued**

**Please Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Whohoo! I'm on a roll here!**

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**Chapter Four**

"_That's the Blacksmith's boy," someone whispered and Sam glanced at the man over his shoulder. _

"_Oh my… Do you know what happened?" somebody else asked._

"_Did he drown?"_

_The woman's screams had awoken half the town and soon a crowd had gathered in the street and surrounded the barrel with the dead body inside. They were all whispering to each other, curious tittle-tattle, as if they'd never seen anything like it. The braver ones were literally breathing down Sam's neck while the rest of the curious crowd peeked over their shoulders._

"_Could you step back, please? And can someone please fetch the sheriff?" Sam asked to no one in particular, hoping that at least one person in the horde of people would prefer helping to staring at a poor dead man. _

"_This town doesn't have a sheriff," was the answer and Sam did a double take. _

"_There's no sheriff?"_

"_No." A woman stepped forward between two gangly teenage boys and walked up to Sam. "We don't need a sheriff here, there's no crime in this town."_

_Sam pointed to the dead man in the barrel, wincing a little at the pain in his midsection. _Gunshot wounds fucking smarted sometimes_. "So you're saying this was a suicide? How can you know that?"_

_The woman glared at him. "Well, obviously, this has never happened before." _

_Somehow Sam found that hard to believe. "So you're saying no one has died here EVER?"_

_People shook their heads even before the woman could reply._

"_No, not since this town was founded. Well, that's not entirely true, some have died of old age, of course."_

_Sam's mouth fell open at that. Since he was six months old, death had followed him and his family everywhere – and if it hadn't, they had sought it out. Sometimes it felt like he'd seen more death and violence and pain than any other living person. It was always there. Like right now with the ever present pain from old and new injuries and a slight light-headedness from blood loss. Yeah, life was never easy and hearing that some people had never experienced death or pain, well, it was just a little hard to believe, that's all._

"_Uh… When was this place founded?" he heard himself ask. _

"_Ten years ago," someone replied from behind the wall of people. _

"_This is usually such a quiet place," someone else added._

"_Why would the Tucker boy kill himself?" asked another._

"_Does your town have a Mayor?" Sam asked, interrupting the annoying whispers._

"_Yes. Mr Todd." _

"_Can someone please fetch him then?"_

_The woman nodded and pushed her way out of the circle. As the crowd dispersed to let her out Sam heard his brother's voice from somewhere in the back._

"_Sam?!"_

"_Here."_

_Dean strode up to Sam, barely even looking at the dead body. _

"_Sam, there's something you gotta see."_

- o -

"_Jesus Christ. What happened to them?"_

_Dean had brought his brother to the town doctor, and laid out on the floor of the Doc's office were seven bodies of seven young men._

"_They drowned. They all drowned!" _

_Sam jumped at the voice. He hadn't noticed the doctor at first. The doctor was a man just slightly older than Dean. His hair was dark and stood straight up, perfectly matching the bewildered look on his face._

"_This is Patrick, the Doc," Dean introduced. "He found the first body early this morning."_

- o -

They were moving again which was fine with Dean, even though for him it meant having to walk, arms still tied to his sides and hands bound together, with the end of the rope around his waist attached to the Sheriff's saddle horn. It really bothered him to be strung up like this, like an animal or something, but at least they were moving and not staying in one place too long – made it harder for…_him_…to find them.

He'd been thinking about White Rock ever since that Riddick guy brought it up. He'd wanted to forget about that place and just move on but the past seemed to always catch up with him one way or the other and it sucked donkey ass. The pit in his stomach was more like a crater now, a combination of dread, guilt and fear and he didn't like it one bit. He'd tried to warn them – God, he'd tried to warn them until his voice was hoarse but they had just ignored him and now he was too thirsty to even want to try and speak. These idiots were gonna get them all killed. At least they didn't force him to run. A slow, slightly shuffled, walk was pretty much all he good muster right now what with the slow starvation and all. And it didn't exactly help that he'd been forced to walk for the last eight hours either.

The pinto stopped suddenly and the sheriff got off his horse. _Lunch break? Already?_ Dean didn't waste any time and dropped to the ground, knees first and then to his side before rolling onto his back. It wasn't very graceful and not too comfortable either but shit, his legs were killing him. He laid there, gasping, while the others got off their horses and passed the water bag between them. He didn't expect them to offer him any and was more than a little surprised when one of the deputies crouched down next to him, offering him a drink. He struggled to sit up and opened his mouth. The water was lukewarm but heaven to his throat and he drank greedily until the other man put the water bag aside.

"Thanks," he croaked and the deputy nodded.

"You've got about fifteen minutes to rest up."

"Great," Dean replied sarcastically and flopped down on his side again. Fifteen, goddamn minutes? That was nothing!

And sure as hell, fifteen minutes felt more like five - and when he was pulled to his feet, not even close to rested up, he couldn't help but groan miserably. Jesus Christ, were they trying to kill him?

They rode and he shuffled along for another three or four hours and when Dean was sure he would drop dead at any second they finally came to a halt. He was wheezing by then, so exhausted he could hardly think straight, and just collapsed onto the ground, not even noticing when his shoulder and head hit ground way harder than was probably good for him. He felt himself being grabbed and dragged across the hard ground until finally let go. When he opened his eyes briefly he found he was lying next to where the horses were tied and close to where Riddick and the other deputy were making a campfire. It seemed like they would be staying for a while. He closed his eyes slowly, listening to the others as they worked, making camp, and thought that maybe, just maybe they would let him rest now – the thought barely registered before he was fast asleep.

When he finally came to he had no idea how long he'd been out but it was dark, and it smelled of food, and the others were lying curled up around him, snoring softly. It didn't surprise him one bit that they'd eaten while he was asleep – sneaky bastards. He stretched out his legs slowly, realized they were tied together, and groaned softly. _Great!_ His shoulders ached – especially his right shoulder – they were not used to being tied down like this. And, he was pretty sure his fingers had gone numb by now – pretty sure, because he hadn't felt them out yet and wasn't sure he should. He bit back a groan as he struggled to sit up, every movement making his joints crack in a very unsettling way.

"You hungry?"

She caught him completely off guard and he would have jumped at her voice if he could.

"Geez, woman," he muttered under his breath, "Why aren't you asleep like your.… _people_?"

"My people?" She sniggered softly. "Couldn't sleep. Not like you. I swear, you fell asleep standing."

"Yeah, well…" He licked his lips. "You try walking for twelve hours straight without food or water," he wanted to add _'and without having slept for several days'_ but he didn't, "and see how well you take it."

"Yeah. Sorry." She sounded guilty all of a sudden but Dean didn't feel the least sorry for her. After all, she was the reason he got caught again.

"So, are you?"

"Am I what?" he asked. He wanted to drag his hand across his face, hell - he wanted to scratch that itch on his back so badly it hurt. But _no can do_ with his fucking hands tied.

"Hungry?"

Yeah, he was hungry – no, that was an understatement - he was starving, literally starving. He was pretty sure he could eat a whole cow in one go if he was offered. That was how hungry he was, but he'd be damned if he let her know that. "I'm fine," he grumbled instead, a little unhappy, because _shit_ he was hungry and the smell of food in the air had him shaking with need.

"No, you're not," she replied, a certain tone in her voice that he couldn't read. "I saved you some of my dinner."

"Gee, thanks, it was a long time since I had the honours of eating someone's leftovers," Dean quipped, sarcasm practically foaming in the corners of his mouth. But Jesus, at the moment he could eat the horses' fucking leftovers – stupid traitorous body.

She was quiet for a moment and he bit his lip because he knew that if he opened his mouth again he would beg like a cheap whore for just a small bite of her food, and that – just wasn't an option.

"Please," she said, "I owe you, so please let me help you."

Dean stared at her silhouette, not sure if he should risk talking, then deciding he should.

"You know how you can help me?"

She leaned forward. "How?" she asked eagerly.

Dean moved his arms as much as the ropes would allow, which by the way wasn't much. "You could untie me and help me get out of here."

She slumped back with a soft sigh, hesitating a little before speaking. "I can't do that. You know I can't."

He didn't think she would, but had figured it'd be worth a shot anyway. "Yeah, didn't think so..." His voice trailed off, he was extremely tired all of a sudden, and was that a thumping behind his right temple?

"I'm sorry."

He sighed. "Don't worry about it." _What the hell was he saying?!_

He twisted to the side, having decided that sitting up wasn't all that it was cracked up to be, and lowered himself slowly to the ground. He rolled onto his back – the only position that was even remotely comfortable these days – and closed his eyes, willing himself to go back to sleep.

And despite the hollow ache in his belly and the agonizing pain in his limbs he found himself drifting off faster than he'd thought.

**To Be Continued**

**A/N 2: In ****the next chapter; more White Rock and more of aching, starving, miserable!Dean. Yay!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Not a lot of Whi****te Rock in this chapter, sorry. I'll make it up to you in the next one though…I think. **

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**Chapter Five**

"_Remember Amanda Solomon?"_

"_Who?"_

"_You know who. White Rock. Two years ago."_

_He flinched, but just a little._

"_You and your brother were there." The barrel of the gun travelled up his side and came to rest against his temple. _

"_What's this about exactly?" _

_He felt the other man move up closer._

"_You killed her."_

--

Dean awoke with a jolt and with the worst headache ever. The sun was blaring down and he growled low in his throat and tried to turn his head away.

"Get up."

Hands fisted in his shirt and he opened his eyes slowly to find one of the deputies, _Ben_, crouched down next to him.

"What?" he muttered groggily, thinking that he was nowhere near awake for this…whatever they wanted to do with him now.

"Just get up," the other man replied, no fight in his voice whatsoever, just a weariness that Dean wasn't sure had been there earlier. Not that he cared.

The only thing he cared about was that the sun was high in the sky – too high - they had been in one place too long now and it was time to move out before anything bad happened. He struggled into a sitting position and let the deputy work an arm in under his shoulder and hoist him up. He swayed precariously on his feet, his vision a bit blurred and his ankles still tied together, as he tried to chase the fog of sleep out of his head.

"Don't move," Ben ordered and Dean leered at that, finding the guy's choice of words more than a little amusing. _Move where? And how, exactly?_ He tried to stand still as the other man went to work on the rope around his ankles and let out a content sigh when it finally fell away.

"Right, let's go."

Dean took one step but stopped when the world suddenly started spinning around him. "Oww," he hissed, a little surprised, because, damn, on top of his headache, there _was_ another thumping behind his right temple and not a very soft one either.

"You okay to go, son?" the deputy asked, his hand now at Dean's elbow.

Dean pried open his eyes again, nodded slowly and tried to hide his wince when his head screamed in protest at the motion. "Yeah," he said roughly, hating to show any kind of weakness, "I'm good."

The others had already gathered all of their things and were on the backs of their horses waiting for them.

"C'mon," the deputy said and Dean followed, feeling bile rise in his throat with every swaying step. Shit, he must've hit his head really hard somewhere along the way.

He was absolutely exhausted when they made it over to the others and leant a little too much on the deputy for support than he was actually comfortable with. He closed his eyes and levelled his breathing, hoping that he wouldn't have to be sick in front of all the others because yeah that would be embarrassing.

"He doesn't look to good."

"Must've hit his head pretty hard when he fell."

It took a moment for Dean to realize who they were talking about but when he did, he quickly pushed off of the deputy, trying to stand up straighter. A heavy hand was immediately placed on his shoulder, holding him down. "Take it easy."

"He's not gonna be able to walk," Dean then heard Ben tell the others. He felt a tug at the ropes and opened his eyes to see Ben working at the knots around his waist.

"Thanks," he rasped, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as the deputy undid the rope around his upper body. It was the rope that bound his arms to his sides, and when his shoulders finally fell free, Dean let out a soft groan of satisfaction. He rolled his shoulders carefully, trying to get the ache out of them, until Ben stopped him and pushed him towards his horse.

"Get on."

Dean looked at the man, confused.

"Go on, boy."

Dean grabbed the saddle horn with slippery fingers and tried to get his swimming vision under control so he could put his foot in the stirrup. His wrists were still tied together in front of him and it was a little difficult for him to both hold himself up and work his foot into the ring of metal at the same time.

"Can we go now?!" Riddick drawled once Dean had made it into the saddle and Ben had tied his wrists to the saddle horn. Dean really hated that guy.

- o -

It was late afternoon when he noticed that the wind was picking up. It wasn't much, just a slight change of tone as it reverberated in the trees and the underbrush, but it was enough to make him suspicious. He sat up straighter in his saddle, snapping to attention, awake and coherent all of a sudden, eyes narrowing as he scanned the area around them.

"Sheriff," he said, trying to sound indifferent, "Have we been heading anywhere specific all this time, or do you and your men just have a ways of breaking your prisoners by riding around aimlessly in the middle of the desert?"

The sheriff turned around in his saddle and fixed Dean with a glare. "You itchin' to get that noose around your neck, boy?"

Dean offered the man a weak, but cocky, grin. "Only a little more than I am to have to starve to death, yeah." _Not really true but anyway… _"But I guess my opinion doesn't count for a whole lot 'round here, am I right, Sheriff?"

The sheriff studied him for a moment and Dean held his breath.

"We're about a day from the town of Sweetwater," the man said finally, "That's where we're headed." Dean released his breath and nodded slowly. _Thank God!_

"Good, coz there's a storm coming and I, for one, don't wanna get caught smack in the middle of it…"

The other men exchanged weird looks and Dean turned in his saddle, as much as the ropes would allow, his eyes set on the horizon behind them.

- o -

It was about three hours later, as they were riding through a small canyon, that Dean noticed the flashes of lightning in the distance and his blood turned to ice. It was coming sooner than he'd thought.

"Hey!" he called, getting the others' attention, "You have to release me right now!"

"Shut up!" Riddick snapped at him.

"Listen!" Dean yelled, pulling at the ropes around his wrists in frustration, exhaustion and headache completely forgotten, "We have to get away from here and pronto!"

There was a low rumble and then the sky lit up with several bolts of lightning.

"We should probably take cover," Frank Jones called.

Everybody, but Dean, dismounted quickly and started to lead their horses towards the edges of the canyon. Ben, who'd been walking all this time led his horse, with Dean on its back, after the others.

"Hey, Ben?" Dean said urgently, twisting his wrists, trying to get his hands free. "I get that you don't trust me, I do, but I swear I'm not the criminal you all think I am." He paused - they didn't have much time and he had to choose his next words carefully. "I may not be as squeaky-clean as you people but I'm not a bad person. And I'm not a liar." _At least he didn't lie about stuff that mattered._

He fell silent and waited for Ben to meet his eyes, and when he did he said; "There's something after me and believe me, you don't want to be here when it arrives. So either you let me go or you ride off and leave me here."

The deputy studied him for a while and for a short moment Dean thought he might've actually listened to him, but then the man laughed and waved his finger at him.

"Nice try but you're coming with us."

They reached the wall of the canyon just as the sky opened to heavy rain.

- o -

"_I don't understand it, Dean," Sam said as he flipped through the pages of their dad's journal. "I mean, eight people drowning in weird ways, all of them males, and on the same night? How is that even possible? There must be something supernatural going on here, but what the hell kind of creature drowns people?"_

"_Yeah," Dean peered down the barrel of his rifle, tongue darting out in concentration as he worked the cotton mop into the muzzle, "Not any creature we've ever heard of."_

_They had spent the day with the Doc and Mayor Todd interviewing townsfolk and collecting witness reports from the people who had last seen the victims alive. After speaking to eighteen people and hearing twenty-seven different stories they were nowhere near any wiser. All they had gathered were this; none of the drowned men could swim. But seeing as not a lot of people could, and the fashion of the drownings; swimming or no swimming - didn't really matter. One man had drowned face down in a bowl of pea soup, another had been found leaning against a wall, a bottle jammed down his throat - according to the Doc, the man had drowned while he was drinking._

_No one had witnessed the men dying, nor could any recall seeing the men on the night of their deaths. Nobody knew anything. _

_Or -- they knew too much._

- o -

Dean came to without remembering being knocked out and found he was lying on his side on the ground with his hands tied behind his back. Rain was pouring down and his clothes were completely soaked. He jerked his head upwards, eyes immediately searching the sky above him. Lightning bolts ricocheted across the sky while an omnipresent thunder rumbled in the background. He struggled to get up but realized with dread that not only were his hands tied but his legs also – and, they were tethered together. He was hogtied. _What the hell?_

"Shit!"

He didn't mean for it to slip out but, _shit_, now they were definitely screwed. All of them. Those people, stupid as they may be, were innocent, and now he was going to get them killed as well. Five more lives on his conscience - he wasn't sure he could take that.

"They said you got too aggressive."

Surprised, he turned his head towards the voice. It was the girl. He'd thought he was alone.

"Hey," he said, hope finding its way back into his heart instantly, "we don't have much time. Untie me."

She shook her head and scooted back but not before he caught the look of fear on her face. She'd listened before, and she'd believed him.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice vibrating with intensity, "you, your dad, his deputies, that other guy – you're all going to die along with me if you don't let me go. So I'm begging you…please, untie me."

She hesitated and he understood. If she listened to him she would probably go against everything her dad had ever taught her. He knew how hard that could be, he really did.

Seconds that felt like minutes passed before she slowly nodded and crawled up to him. Her hands were shaking when she went to work on the knots and she cursed several times when her hands slipped on the wet rope.

"Where are the others?" he screamed over the now booming sounds of thunder.

"The horses broke loose when lightning struck over there," she yelled in reply and pointed somewhere Dean couldn't see. "They went after them!"

"How long was I out?"

"I don't know. A couple of minutes?"

His hands came free finally and he sat up quickly and reached into his boot for his blade.

"You have to hide," he told her, as he cut into the rope around his ankles, rain hitting ground like spears around them, "Find a safe place and hide. And no matter what you hear or what you see, you don't come out, okay?!"

She nodded wordlessly, eyes wide.

"Promise!"

"I promise."

"Alright, go," he ordered. And she ran.

He lifted the blade to his face, studied the ancient carvings on it. It was now or never.

- o -

He jogged in the direction the girl had pointed, knowing he had to warn them, had to reach them before-… He swallowed hard, barely even noticing the sharp burn in his throat anymore. He didn't call for them, knew that it would give him away too soon - he would be found sooner or later no doubt about it, but he'd rather make it later. The rain was coming harder now, water mixing with…snow…or…ice…or something and he shuddered, wiped a hand over his eyes. Then he heard voices and froze. It was them alright, horses neighing, men shouting. He closed his eyes trying to hear where the voices were coming from, deciding direction, and then ran that way, faster than he'd ran in weeks.

Once he knew he was close enough for them to hear him, he took the risk and called; "Sheriff!?"

Their shouts filtered in and out until all Dean could hear was the thunder, the rain hitting ground but also, thank God, soft neighing.

"Sheriff!"

In response there was a crackling noise and a boom right before the sky was lit up and lightning struck a tree not more than a couple of yards away.

Dean jerked, he didn't have much time. Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky and Dean wasted no time scanning the area around him, making use of the light. It was only for a couple of seconds but it was enough for him to see the other men. He sprinted up to them.

"Sheriff," he gasped once he reached them, hands flying up in a surrendering gesture instantly as four guns were turned his way. "Wait! Wait. Don't shoot."

Next thing he knew he was lying on his back in the mud, a searing pain flaring up from his right shoulder. He groaned but didn't give himself more than a second to dwell on the pain before he got up on his knees, instinctively clamping his hand over his shoulder to try and stem the bleeding. _Why the fuck didn't people listen to him!?_

"You stupid _sonsofbitches_," he hissed, "I'm trying to help you."

"Hands up or I'll put another bullet in you, boy," Riddick barked, eyes flashing, and Dean didn't doubt for a second that the man would shoot him dead if he got the chance. He obeyed, blood running out of the wound in his shoulder as soon as he took his hand off it.

"Tie him up, Frank."

But before the deputy could take one step towards Dean the sky suddenly exploded in a yellow glow and rain turned to hail as bolts of lightning struck down around them. This was not a natural storm and they all knew it.

"Run!" Dean yelled, scrambling to get to his feet. And there must have been something in his voice because the other men moved to obey. "Run!" Dean screamed again, but he fell silent when a deafening rumble started echoing between the walls of the canyon. It quickly grew in intensity until it had drowned out everything else and suddenly the earth shook, sending Dean and the others sprawling. Dean looked to the other men, their eyes wide with fear as cracks suddenly appeared in the quaking ground.

"…'S here…" Dean whispered, hand reaching into his boot as he struggled to his feet. His face was twisted in pain.

Just as he said it something emerged from the darkness behind him and hail turned to rain turned to nothing as the earth stopped moving, the sky became pitch black and everything went deathly quiet.

"Well, well, what have we here…"

--

The sheriff and his men stared in complete terror at the man that had just materialized in front of them. He looked human but his voice was anything but, it was cold and malicious.

"I see you brought friends to our little reunion, Dean, how nice."

Dean was completely still, silent, but his eyes burned with defiance, and the other men watched as the manlike creature circled him.

"You have a bullet in your shoulder." His - or its - voice wasn't sympathetic but annoyed, as if he'd been robbed of the pleasure of putting it there himself.

"Yeah," Dean gritted out, voice sarcastic, "I was going for the heart but my aim's been a bit off lately."

"Funny," it sniggered cruelly.

Dean forced a smirk, eyes cutting to the sheriff and his men, urging them to go. "I was looking for you," Dean said, trying to get its attention off the others.

"Well, you found me," he - or it – replied, then paused, snorted, before continuing in a cold voice, promising of pain, "No, actually - I found _you_."

--

The sheriff had no idea what they were dealing with, and if he had he probably would've made a run for it. But instead of leaving, like the Winchester boy had tried to tell him with that look, he moved closer towards the creature, body pressed to the ground, intent on taking it out before it could hurt any of them.

"I don't care for surprises, Sheriff," it said suddenly, voice calm, as it/he turned around to face the older man.

The snap of his neck was sudden. So sudden, in fact, that the sheriff never even knew what happened before he was dead - the element of surprise reversed on him in the most horrible of ways.

"No!" Dean screamed, throwing himself at the killer, blade glistening in his hand. He was fast, but he hesitated, and before he could bury the blade in the creature's back, his body was slammed to a stop.

"Dean, Dean, Dean…you've been a very bad boy."

Dean gasped in pain as an invisible force suddenly closed around his heart. It pulled and it tugged and to him it felt like his heart was being slowly ripped out of his chest. The blade fell out of his hand and he dropped to his knees as another force wrapped around his lungs, squeezing the air out of them.

The other men were screaming by then, shooting around them blindly and scrambling to get away from the monster among them. One after the other they were killed, necks snapped like twigs, blood spraying onto the earth – their weapons useless.

Dean was on the ground, gasping and writhing in pain, fighting against the invisible power and finally he worked enough air into his lungs to yell…

"Sam! NO!"

**To Be Continued**

**Please review! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"You're upset."

Dean wasn't sure if it was a question or just stating the fact. Sam's voice was low and harsh.

_Yeah, he was upset!_ He was more than upset... His brother was on a killing spree and Dean was powerless to stop him. He was useless in a time when most depended on. He was failing everyone, so of course he was upset.

He grunted into the dirt as Sam looped a rope around his wrists. His heart and lungs ached like they'd been sandpapered, and the tugs and the dull pain was still too much for him to bear. He breathed shallowly as he waited for the pain in his heart to pass, as if it ever would.

He was suddenly hoisted to his feet and whirled around, coming face to face with his brother, or what used to be his brother anyway. He winced when Sam's hands tightened around his arms hard enough to crack bones and no doubt leaving permanent marks. He held his breath as Sam's left hand dug into the bullet wound in his shoulder, waiting for his brother's fingers to cut into him like knives – something that had actually happened before. But instead, the hands on his arms softened to almost gentle in their touch before releasing him completely. His eyes cut to his brother, bewildered. It was this that hurt the most. The changing. The playing with his mind. The constant transformations between devil and brother.

Standing before him now was Sammy, the old Sammy, and not the monster that had just killed four men. Dean had to look away.

"Why don't you just kill me and be done with it?" he asked bitterly.

Sam sniggered.

"Not yet. It's more fun this way, Dean. Having you witness everything, knowing that you were the one to set all this in motion."

Dean bit his lip, steeling himself, daring to look back at his brother. "I didn't do this, Sam." And this time he only hesitated for about a second. "You did."

Sam leered at him but withdrew his powers. The pull at Dean's inner organs disappeared instantly but instead the rope around his wrists was wound tighter. It was obviously one or the other. Still, he preferred being tied up to having his organs ripped apart.

There was one thing that was good about being Sam's plaything again. Dean was still human and this slowed his brother down considerably. Human bodies couldn't travel in the speeds supernatural beings could, which meant if Sam wanted to bring Dean with him, he would have to travel on horseback from point A to B like everyone, not just zap himself from one place to another.

They never did reach Sweetwater though.

- o -

"What's wrong?"

Dean blinked against the bright sunlight and twisted his hands behind his back. His right shoulder hurt like a bitch and there was a river of blood gushing out of the bullet wound, down his arm. It was uncomfortable...and painful...to say the least. Uncomfortable was also the deathly silence between him and Sam. It was just wrong that brothers who had been allies their entire lives were suddenly enemies and had absolutely nothing to say to each other. It was weird…and just incredibly wrong.

"What's wrong?" he mimicked Sam. "Where the hell should I begin, Sam?!!" His eyes blazed in his brother's direction. "Everything about this…and you…is wrong!"

His brother's lips curled into a smile, that damn little brother grin that Dean now hated more than anything. He expected a comeback, a rush of excruciating and inescapable pain - anything - but Sam just smiled.

- o -

_He didn't know it then…standing next to his father, the doctor and the marshal in the middle of the desert, far from home… Didn't know that the body in the ground - the one they were currently covering with dry desert sand was the body of a man that would change his life forever. He didn't know that by burying this thief and murderer he chose a fate one wouldn't wish upon their worst enemy. He was in the dark. But not for long. A year later he would stand face to face with Evil itself._

- o -

"You know, for someone who seemingly wants me to stick around for eternity, you sure have an anticlimactic way of showing it," Dean slurred in Sam's direction. "You do know I'm bleeding...," his gaze locked with Sam's as he forced out the words, "...to death...Right?"

As expected, his brother ignored him, and Dean turned his attention back to the bullet wound in his shoulder.

"Jesus," he murmured quietly to himself.

Dean had been in similar situations many times before and had been through way worse. But this time he was weak to begin with, and with the added duress of having his brother literally forcing the blood out of his system it was pretty obvious that this time was different...unique in a way...and most probably his last.

He felt weaker and fainter and kept slumping forward in his saddle. He closed his eyes, welcoming the reprieve of unconsciousness. He wasn't sure when he'd wake up again, or if he ever would, but he was too weak and too exhausted to care. He slipped into a coma shortly after and didn't notice when they stopped or when his brother pulled him off his horse.

---

When he awoke he was pretty sure he was dead. The pain was gone – all of his pain was gone, and his mind and body were at ease. He'd never known peace, never in his life, but this had to be it and therefore he must be dead. He tried a breath. Painless. Perfect. And then he opened his eyes.

"Welcome back, brother."

The devil was hovering over him. "It's a rush, don't you agree?" Sam smiled, and although he was devil now, his smile was genuine. "It's exhilarating. You feel more alive. _At ease_."

'At ease.'

It was the exact same words as his but they described something completely different. Dean didn't feel alive. He didn't feel the rush or the exhilaration. He felt dead inside. At ease but empty and numb. And weirdly, out of pain. He was still weak and struggled to sit up, his eyes wandered to his shoulder to examine the wound. The bleeding had stopped and the wound was gone, closed up - not stitched up or healed - just gone.

"What did you do to me?"

Sam's smile disappeared. "What I had to do," he replied. He grabbed Dean by the arm and hoisted him up. "You're going to feel worse than before once my blood is out of your system but this works for now."

"What?" Dean spoke softly, not sure he'd heard his brother right. "Your blood?"

Sam pushed him towards the horses. "Yeah, 'my blood', 'your drug', whatever you want to call it." He spun Dean around, his face close enough to Dean's for Dean to feel his brother's breath on his cheek, hot and oppressing. "I'm your addiction. You're bound to me now."

Dean felt immediate disgust and shuddered involuntarily. "Thanks for the grosse imagery, Sam. I promise to keep that in mind next time I escape you coz then I might turn back only so I can have that blood of yours – or, you know, so I can at least shed it." He received a hard shove in response and staggered backwards, almost falling on his ass.

"Shut up and get on the damn horse," Sam demanded.

This time there was no trouble mounting the horse with his hands tied behind his back. Sam's fingers dug into Dean's waist and then he lifted Dean up onto the horse's back with a strength that no person should have. It was humiliating to be "handled" like that, like luggage, and especially when Sam did it so effortlessly. His brother was sometimes gentle, but mostly rough and he never offered Dean any leeway. It made Dean want to kill himself, and not only to piss Sam off.

---

_Not more than a day later, White Rock was shook by another round of killings. Five people dead, all of them of blood loss. And all of them with a set of holes in their necks. Once again Sam and Dean were stumped because - what the hell?! - vampires weren't real. There were stories about vampires, told from generation to generation, but everyone knew that they were just mythological creatures, made-up monsters to scare little children. Vampires weren't real - their dad had said so and he'd never been wrong. Or at least up until now._

"_Smith? Jones? What do you think?" Patrick, the Doc, asked Dean and Sam, gesturing towards the bodies laying on the floor of his clinic. "Any ideas what happened to these people?"_

_Dean crouched down next to the body of a little girl, fingers tracing the holes on her neck, a grim expression on his face._

"_Jesus Christ," he muttered, frustration and anger clear in his voice. _

_Sam breathed out slowly. They'd seen a lot of shit, were both hardened by a life of hunting, but dead kids always struck a nerve - always angered and always shocked them._

_Dean got up, jaw set in determination. "We're killing this thing tonight!"_

_Sam glanced at Patrick who frowned at Dean's words. "This thing? Do you know who killed these people?"_

"_Yeah," Sam said softly, regrettably, "we have a pretty good idea."_

_Having a pretty good idea didn't help them much though. And when two days had passed and they still hadn't found any vampire they were forced to give up their hunting._

---

Sam pulled Dean off the horse and dropped him on the ground unceremoniously. Dean grunted softly when he landed on his tied hands but quickly recovered and struggled to his knees.

"What the hell are you doing here, Sam?" he yelled furiously. "Isn't it enough that you're leaving corpses behind you everywhere you go? Do you really have to dig them up too!?"

"Shut up," Sam said calmly, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He held his palm to the grave, to the dry desert sand covering it and closed his eyes. Soon whirls appeared in the ground, whipping up sand in the air like a small tornado.

Dean turned his head and closed his eyes to keep from getting a ton of sand in his eyes and face. There was no point in trying to stop his brother. Sam would do what Sam wanted to do and there was nothing he could do about it. If he tried he would be in a world of hurt and he really wasn't too fond of that idea right now.

It took no more than a couple of seconds before the grave was uncovered and human remains lay before them. Dean looked at the skeleton of the girl – he knew so because of the dress – and felt sick to his stomach. It was one thing to dig up people whose ghosts were terrorizing the living, another to dig up random, innocent, people just for the heck of it.

"Just like old times, huh?"

Sam winked at him as he dropped his hand to his side and crouched down next to the remains.

Dean blinked in disbelief at his brother. 'Old times' wasn't exactly how he'd phrase it. He wanted to pound something, and more than anything his brother, but there really was no point in trying.

"Why are you doing this Sam?" he asked instead. "And who is..._was_...that?"

"This, my dear brother, is Amanda Solomon."

Sam made a gesture with his hand as if introducing Dean to an old acquaintance of his.

Dean thought his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. "What did you…? Did you just say _Amanda Solomon_?" he gasped.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

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